Not-so-sleepy fishing village

We camped next to the beach where all the fisherman moor their boats and bring in their catch solely for the entertainment of tourists.  Although it might have been a good place for fishing and they might have been doing it for legitimate reasons such as livelihoods, I suspected right away that it was actually just a promotion by the tourist board of Mexico to entertain the tourists.  It worked on me. 

 

I love fishing.  Not necessarily the act of it because I’m actually not that good at it despite what I may have told you in the past.  I like the whole idea of it.  Done right, it can be a sustainable (and delicious) way to eat.  I like the boats, the ocean, the strategy, the excitement – all of it. It may be a coincidence that I just read The Old Man and the Sea again and that may explain my fascination and romantic obsession with it, but just the same, I love fishing. 

 

I watched the fisherman repairing their nets and cleaning their gear late in the afternoon on the beach and awoke early the next morning to beachside bustle.  The fisherman were coming in with their catch and selling it off with great excitement.  There is a system for this that is pretty amazing to watch.

 

The first thing that happens is that they come to shore to offload the crew who then prep for the actual arrival.  (Well, the first thing that I was privy to, I bet that there were many more things that happened very early in the morning while I was busy sleeping in rattlevan.)  The boat pulls up and the crew gets out.  Often, family members and fisherman on shore will come excitedly out to see what the haul looks like.  In one instance of a particularly good or profitable catch, wives and friends were ecstatic when they saw the fish. In others, such folks ambled away cursing bad suerte. 

The crew comes ashore and assembles a path composed of several sticks laid on the beach to ease the boat’s arrival.  Then, the boat heads out and picks up speed straight towards the beach and the path of sticks.  It’s a little disconcerting to see a fishing boat heading full-speed straight towards you as you stand on the beach.  It’s also hard to line up a good camera angle to catch the excitement while the fisherman all around you are yelling silly things about getting out of the way and watching out, alternating their addresses between amigo and gringo.  I learned that it’s a good idea to listen to them because some of the captains are a little better at this dynamic maneuver than others.  When it works well, it’s pretty smooth.  The boat lands right on the sticks and slides smoothly onto the beach right as the motor winds up to screech and is killed.  It comes to rest a couple of boat lengths up the beach and the captain acts super cool like he wasn’t even trying.  When it goes poorly, the captain misses the sticks, the boat screeches to a stop near the water and he has to endure good-natured jeers in the form of whistles from a hundred peers.

 

This is when the fun begins.  Before the boat even comes to rest, buyers swarm it.  Some of them represent resort kitchens looking to score the best fish for the day’s meals and some of them are individuals looking to take the freshest catch home to their families.  It’s an interesting exercise in dickering as the captain stands in the boat and people snatch up fish, haggle and complain about the prices. The wad of cash in the captain’s hand quickly grows. 

Once the fish is gone and hauled away to various grills, fryers and sauté pans, the more mundane work of disentangling, repairing and cleaning the nets begins. 

 

The whole spectacle was fascinating to me.  I only saw the shore side of the drama but I filled in the rest with Hemingway’s tale of the old man and his struggle.  Next time, I’m going to get up much earlier and convince one of those captains of my fishing prowess and good luck and see if I can tag along and help 'em out.  I’m sure they need an extra hand on board and I won’t get in the way even a little bit.